


honeydew

by guineaDogs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Chores, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Married Sheith, Massage, Rimming, Top Keith (Voltron), real talk keith is kinda bratty in this, the implication is they switch but it doesn't happen in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineaDogs/pseuds/guineaDogs
Summary: Shiro frowned at the list, then met his husband’s eyes, hoping to appeal to the part of Keith that was absolutely weak for him. “Baby. I love you.”Keith snorted. “I love you too, but that’s not getting you out of this.”--Or: Keith gives Shiro a list of busywork chores so he can set up a nice surprise for Shiro.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 83





	honeydew

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally write soft, and maybe this is a tad _too_ saccharine but you know what? Both of them deserve nice things.
> 
> I can be found on twitter @ guineadogs

Sometimes, he just wanted to relax. It was especially true right now; he felt exhausted after another grueling workweek, and the nice weather outside tempted him. From the kitchen window that looked out into his backyard, he could see the sky was clear, bright blue, and the pool looked more than inviting. What Shiro wanted to do with his day, more than anything, was make a martini and lounge in the floating pool chair he’d yet to get much use from. The fact that this was a temptation at all was proof of how utterly drained he was. 

As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he allowed his thoughts to drift: perhaps he could convince his husband to join him. Honestly, it wasn’t even a ‘perhaps,’ he knew Keith would leap at the chance to relax and enjoy his company—that was an absolute certainty. If he was lucky, Keith would want sunscreen rubbed in for him. And of course, Shiro, dutiful husband that he was, would make sure he attended to every inch of Keith’s exposed body. He’d even get  _ just _ under the hems of those tight little swimming briefs that clung to Keith like a second skin. 

He inhaled the rich aroma of his coffee before he took a sip. He leaned against the counter, cradling the warm mug against his chest as he indulged in his fantasy a few moments longer, which mostly had everything to do with how poorly the aforementioned article of clothing covered Keith, especially when he was worked up and hard.

Given the opportunity, Shiro would’ve allowed his thoughts to drift longer. However, that was interrupted by Kosmo wandering into the kitchen to sniff at the container his kibble was kept in, wagging his tail slowly and glancing toward Shiro. The wolfhound had practically imprinted on Keith when he was a puppy, and not only did he insist on taking up a considerable portion of the bed, he generally refused to get up until Keith woke up. He was still likely in the process of it, but Shiro knew he’d drag himself out of their bedroom sooner or later. 

Shiro set his mug aside, picked up Kosmo’s bowl from the drying rack, and walked over to the other side of the kitchen to scoop out his breakfast. Kosmo knew to sit and wait patiently, but the prospect of food made him so excited that he whined a whine that seemed far too high-pitched for a dog his size and perched himself up like a giant meerkat or prairie dog. It was a sight to see, particularly knowing if Kosmo bothered to stand up on his hind legs, he was as tall as Keith. 

“Patience, sweetie,” Shiro chided softly as he filled the bowl. He set the bowl down in front of Kosmo, and upon his command of  _ okay _ , Kosmo dug into his breakfast. Shiro then returned to his coffee, and when he was about halfway done with his first cup, a disheveled and half-dressed Keith shuffled toward him. 

Shiro met him with open arms, pulling him snug against his chest. Keith was never one for mornings, especially on days off. His reaching for Shiro’s mug to drink some of the coffee while pressed against him was practically a routine at this point. Shiro never minded; Keith was precious, and even more so in moments like these. “Morning, baby.”

Keith grumbled as he rubbed his face against Shiro’s chest. “The bed got cold.” Which, he really meant the space that Shiro had occupied got cold. Shiro knew damn well the dog was as much of a furnace as he was. But still. Precious. 

Shiro hummed in response, rubbing a tight circle against the small of Keith’s back as he leaned in, burying his face into his fair. “The coffee doesn’t brew itself.” An excuse, really. As much as he loved watching Keith sleep, he could only handle laying idly in bed for so long before he felt compelled to get moving in some capacity.

Keith was quiet enough that Shiro wondered if he’d dozed back off while pressed against him like this. Silence permeated through the kitchen, but that was soon interrupted by the sound of a rumbling stomach. Keith pulled away then, almost looking bashful as if he had any control over bodily functions like that.

Pressing a soft kiss into his lush hair, Shiro ushered him to the kitchen table. “I’ll fix up some breakfast,” he told Keith, who nodded as he settled in his chair with a yawn. Shiro’s breakfast plans were simple: eggs, toast, and coffee. But he knew that Keith would be a lot more functional once he had some food in him.

* * *

Shiro was methodical in washing the dishes. With rubber gloves on, he diligently scrubbed every inch of each dish before passing it to Keith to rinse. “Might go out to the pool later,” he said casually, casting a glance in his husband’s direction. “Interested?”

Keith frowned. “We both have a lot of stuff to do today, Shiro.” 

That was news to him. Shiro spared a mournful glimpse of the backyard. “I was hoping to relax today.” 

“You can—we both can—later,” Keith responded hastily. He set one of the plates on the drying rack and stepped away from the sink to tear a page from the magnetic notepad from the fridge. “This is what I need you to do today.”

The stationary was eggshell blue and minimalist. There was a header, and the rest of it was lined for lists. Keith’s hurried script only filled a few lines, but each item was a task that Shiro absolutely didn’t want to do: bathe Kosmo, laundry, clear out the gutters, and the most dreaded task of all—building the bookshelf they’d bought from Ikea a solid month prior. 

Shiro frowned at the list, then met his husband’s eyes, hoping to appeal to the part of Keith that was absolutely weak for him. “Baby. I love you.”

Keith snorted. “I love you too, but that’s not getting you out of this.” He leaned up to press a kiss to Shiro’s lips, and now that the breakfast dishes were done, he left the kitchen. Shiro’s demand to know what Keith would be doing was left unanswered.

* * *

As much as he didn’t want to spend half the day—or all of it—ensuring the basic upkeep of their domicile, Shiro couldn’t argue that it needed to be done. If he were to argue anything, it was the order in which the tasks were listed. The different pressures and flows of the black ink made it perfectly clear that they weren’t all written at the same time, and the order ultimately didn’t matter so much as whether tasks got done. 

The gutters were the first thing he would do, he decided, but before he ventured outside, he headed to the bedroom to change out of his pajamas. Keith was stripping the bed as he passed him on his way to the dresser, and that wasn’t out of the norm especially considering the sheets were due for a wash anyway. Neither of them said much; Shiro changed into a pair of cargo shorts and a tank, and shut himself in the bathroom to brush his teeth and slather up in sunscreen.

He carried the ladder from the shed over his shoulder, lugging the outdoor trash can behind him. The gutters weren’t in too bad of shape; Shiro was fairly certain that it was a month or two ago that Keith had tasked himself with the exact same thing. Shiro wouldn’t say that it was  _ pointless _ ; there was debris, but it was far from clogged like it tended to get in autumn when the nearby oaks dropped more leaves across the property than could reasonably keep up with. 

Still, Shiro did his due diligence in cleaning up what he could and worked up a great deal of sweat in the process. When he was back inside, he was certain to drink a large glass of water, and a second for good measure. 

Bathing Kosmo was next. It made perfect sense; as soon as he was done he could shower, and when he got around to working on laundry, he wouldn’t feel gross. The problem he ran into, though, was that the bedroom door was locked. It was the simple sort of lock that he could get open with a paperclip and little effort, but it was the principle of the matter.

He tested the doorknob a second time, confirming that  _ yes _ , it was definitely locked, not just stuck for some reason. Sighing, Shiro knocked on the door. “Keith?” There wasn’t an immediate answer, but he could hear movement on the other side of the door, and a grunting sound that Shiro couldn’t immediately suss out. “Keith, open the door.”

“Bedroom’s off limits to you, Shiro.” 

At least he got a response, but it didn’t change that things had very quickly veered from normal to odd. He couldn’t remember the last time either of them bothered locking the bedroom door; it was just the two of them and the dog, after all. “Since when? I’m going to need a change of clothes.”

He didn’t get a direct response immediately following that, but he could hear more movement before Keith cracked the bedroom door open just enough to shove a handful of clothes at him. From this angle, Shiro could not see what he was up to, but at least he had clothes. Keith offered no explanation, and quickly closed the door. 

Shiro knew when to push things and when not to, and in this case he opted to continue his list of chores and relieve Kosmo of his summertime dog sweat. 

The issue was that not only was Kosmo huge, but he also absolutely hated baths. Normally, this was a two person task simply because of the number of flailing limbs, and as good of a boy as Kosmo normally was, the one command he would never listen to was  _ get in the tub.  _ Shiro considered the merits of buying one of those plastic kiddie pools and using that as a makeshift tub—at least the lower ledge would give Kosmo one less thing to freak out about. The downside to that meant risking Kosmo somehow finding a way to get away from in favor of running laps around the backyard and rolling around in the one or two dirt patches where grass absolutely wouldn’t grow.

Suffering in the guest bathroom simply felt like the easier option. 

It went about as Shiro expected, with seemingly the entire bathroom soaked with the stench of wet dog and shampoo lingering in the air. But Kosmo got cleaned and groomed, and Shiro got his shower afterwards.

* * *

Laundry was easy, specifically because at that point, the only thing he could do was sort their dirty clothes and start a load.

But the bookcase? Fuck the bookcase. Shiro regretted ever stepping foot in the Ikea with Keith. In the heat of the moment, they’d had a great time. He couldn’t deny that; there was something sweet about exploring the different showrooms, picking and choosing their dream furniture and decorations. 

But the bookcase. The worst part of it, Shiro was the one who wanted to throw down the five hundred dollars for the ‘Billy.’ It was a gorgeous piece of furniture—birch veneer, enough shelving that he could finally finish unpacking the books that he’d had stacked out of the way in the makeshift study—and the best part was that it was designed to fit right in the corner of the room. 

The massive, massive downside was that it was packed into nine different boxes. A sense of dread washed over him every time he thought about just how long it would take to build the bookcase, and how much it  _ sucked _ that he couldn’t just hire someone to build it for him. 

Shiro was fairly certain it took an hour alone to open the boxes and lay the building materials out in an order that made sense to him. He didn’t want to think about how long it took him to make sense of the minimal directions. 

* * *

There was nothing like the existential crises prompted by attempting to build a complex piece of Ikea furniture. What was he doing?  _ Why _ was he doing it? What was the point? Why were there supposedly six different types of dowels that all looked exactly the same but  _ weren’t _ ?

He hated everything.

When he realized he built a section of the bookcase with the wrong pieces of similarly-cut wood and had to carefully undo everything lest he strip it, Shiro tossed every last bit of it into a fire pit. He didn’t, of course. 

Shiro was not a quitter.

* * *

The changes in natural lighting were the only indicator of how much time had passed, but enough of the frame was built that Shiro felt like he’d made good progress. He was so focused on trying to get the bookshelf built that he didn’t hear the study door open, nor the footfalls that indicated someone was approaching him. No, he wasn’t aware of any of that until two very warm and familiar hands slid over his eyes, coupled perfectly with Keith’s lips against the side of his neck. 

“Are you at a stopping point?” 

There wasn’t anything special about the way Keith asked that question, but the love Shiro had for him made every word he said truly beautiful. “I can be.” He’d finish the bookshelf; there was absolutely no way he could leave a project like this unfinished now that he’d started. But he could absolutely take a break.

“Good. I want to show you something.” 

Keith didn’t move his hands, and Shiro lacked his usual grace in getting to his feet between that and Keith’s insistence on standing directly behind him. The important thing was that he managed, and in trusting Keith so completely, he let his husband guide him to their destination. 

“Is whatever this is what’s made you so cagey today?”

Keith hummed, which Shiro took as confirmation. “I think you’ll like it.” He pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. It felt electric, and Shiro was sure that he would love whatever it was, especially if Keith kept touching him like that. 

When Keith dropped his hands, they were standing just inside the bedroom. The blackout curtain hanging over the window ensured that the room was dark, but it wasn’t without light: above the bed there was suddenly a canopy, covered in glistening lights. The bed had clearly been remade, and somehow looked nicer and more inviting than it usually did. It might’ve been due to the lighting, or the bottle of rosé resting on the nightstand along with a plate of strawberries.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Baby, what is this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” Keith murmured with his face against his shoulder. Shiro didn’t have to see his face to know Keith was blushing furiously. His arms snaked around his torso, holding Shiro’s back to his chest. He let go a moment later, only to take Shiro’s hand in his, pulling him onto their bed. “I wanted it to look like constellations, but easier said than done.”

To fully appreciate Keith’s efforts, Shiro settled on the bed, leaning against the pile of large, fluffy pillows stacked against the headboard. Keith quickly followed him, tucking himself against Shiro’s side, wrapping his arms around his torso once more. “It does look like the night sky, though.” Perhaps not the one they were familiar with, but the aesthetic was there. “You’re precious, you know that?”

Keith turned slightly, burying his face into Shiro’s chest. “I know you’ve been tired, and work’s stressed you out, so I thought you might enjoy something relaxing.”

A chuckle bubbled up from deep within. “Is that why you gave me that list?”

“Before you’d even mentioned the pool, I thought about telling you to go see a movie. But can you honestly say you’d have done either of those things without me?” Keith waited for a moment, but when Shiro failed to admit that very obvious truth, he pressed his mouth against his throat. “Thought so.”

* * *

Keith passed him a flute of champagne. They drank. Keith fed him white chocolate covered strawberries, and was quick to kiss away the juices that threatened to make a mess of Shiro’s chin. Shiro felt positively spoiled; spending time with Keith is always more than enough to make him feel content and happy, but he couldn’t deny that having his husband doting on him like this was exhilarating. 

There was even the promise of slow-cooker brisket for dinner. 

But that was far off from now. The only appetite Shiro had was for his husband. They’d had two flutes of champagne between them, and on a practically empty stomach, that was enough for him to feel comfortably warm and more than content to pull Keith into his lap. 

Their mouths met, lips moving against one another’s in a slow kiss that tasted like champagne and fruit, and Shiro couldn’t get enough of it. He loved kissing Keith. Loved the soft sounds he made against his lips, the way Keith’s hands settled on the back of his neck and those long fingers nestled into the short hairs on the back of his neck. 

Shiro’s own hands rested on Keith’s hips, and slid them back as they kissed. With two handfuls of tone ass, he tugged Keith snuggly against him, to which Keith responded with a wicked roll of his hips that caused a pleased rumbling in his throat to escape past his lips.

The kiss broke, and as Shiro caught his breath, Keith immediately occupied his mouth by kissing and nipping a trail along the side of Shiro’s neck. “Are you going to let me take care of you, Takashi?”

It always hit hard when Keith called him that, and it made him want to give Keith the world. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Keith’s nose brushed against his as he kissed him once more before leaning back. “Take off your clothes and lay on your stomach.” As soon as Keith moved off of him, Shiro was more than happy to oblige. Each article of his clothing—and Keith’s—found its way over the edge of the bed, settling somewhere on the floor. 

Shiro laid on his stomach, rested his head on a pillow, arms slipping beneath to enjoy the coolness while it lasted. Keith settled on the back of thighs, and as he ran his hands along his back, Shiro felt a shiver along his spine. Keith’s fingers moved from the small of his back to his shoulders, once there, taking hold and digging in firmly. 

“You’re so tense,” Keith commented as his deft fingers worked out a knot in one of his shoulders. Shiro wouldn’t say he was surprised by this at all; he carried his stress there and after particularly rough weeks, it often felt like that was all his shoulders were. Knots.

Shiro groaned, pressing his forehead against his arm. Keith was merciless in working out the knots, and the pain radiated from his shoulders outward. But it was the sort of pain that brought a rush of relief. “Worth it, when it gets you so determined to get your hands on me.”

Keith laughed. It was a soft one, one that Shiro knew no one else would ever hear. It was one of Shiro’s favorite sounds, and coupled with Keith leaning against his back, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, Shiro felt his heart flutter. “I want more than my hands on you.”

“Yeah?” Shiro glanced over his shoulder, and when his eyes met Keith’s pretty blues, Keith leaned in for another kiss. This one was much briefer, but Shiro couldn’t complain when Keith made up for it by working his fingers and knuckles down his back.

Keith smoothed his hands across the broad part of Shiro’s back, down along his sides and to the front of his chest. His fingers very quickly found his nipples and twisted them sharply. Shiro moaned, and felt his cock twitch with interest. “My mouth, for one. Wanna work you open. And if you ask real nicely, maybe I’ll give you my cock.”

“You want me to beg for you, baby?” It was a slight deviation from what usually happened. They changed things up as they felt like it, sure, but more often than not, it was Keith impaling himself on Shiro’s cock, or Shiro testing the limitations of Keith’s flexibility as he bent him over. 

He felt a shiver as Keith pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Just a little.” 

* * *

He was the sort of relaxed that only came after a thorough massage. Every bit of tension and stress was worked out of him, but before he even had a chance to really indulge in that, Keith took to littering his back in kisses and nips. He held fast to Shiro’s hips, digging his blunt nails into Shiro’s skin. 

“Feels good, baby.” Shiro murmured the words with a content sigh. Keith was taking his time with him, and he was loving every moment of it.

Keith shifted downward as he worked his way to Shiro’s lower back. He nipped Shiro’s hips, kissed the dimples just above Shiro’s ass. “God, Shiro.” He sounded mesmerized as his hands slid over the curve of Shiro’s ass, squeezing and spreading his cheeks.

“What? It’s not the first time you’ve seen my ass, honey.” 

Keith’s grip on his cheeks tightened, drawing a groan from Shiro’s throat. “I’m allowed to enjoy this view as much as I want.” He sounded sullen, but only slightly. Keith shimmied between Shiro’s thighs, and while one hand still firmly held onto one of his ass cheeks, he ghosted his other fingers along the rim. “You’re perfect.” Keith sounded revenant again. The kiss he pressed to his cheek, and the teasing, made Shiro’s hips twitch. 

“Keith.” It wasn’t begging. It was saying his husband’s name in a stern-enough tone to indicate just how much he wanted him to actually do  _ something. _

“Hm? Is this what you want me to do?” The lick came and went abruptly. It was just a swipe of his tongue along his hole. Enough that Shiro could feel the wet warmth against that sensitive spot for a moment, and only that.

Shiro groaned, pressing his face into the pillow. If Keith’s hands and mouth hadn’t already been all over him, and if his cock wasn’t hard and firmly pinned between himself and the comforter, he might have handled this better. Instead, he felt  _ needy _ , and having the tables turned on him like this was exciting. 

“What’s that? You were doing something?” Keith was relentless in working him up, but that didn’t mean that Shiro couldn’t goad him into further action. 

The response was a growl, and the sound of a lid cap popping open. Keith’s teeth sank into one of his cheeks, and as a rather surprised cry escaped Shiro’s lips, Keith pushed a slick finger in. That was good. Perfect, even, and Shiro responded by immediately rocking his hips into it.

“That’s good, baby,” Shiro crooned. He knew how much Keith enjoyed the praise—needed it, even. It wasn’t praise for the sake of it, either. Shiro didn’t play that way. “Feels good.”

Keith’s fingers were long, and even though he only had the one moving within him, he knew exactly where to touch Shiro, and how to guarantee his toes curled with just a curl of his finger. He added a second finger without preamble, stretching and stroking. The attention on his prostate had Shiro panting, and swearing he could see stars behind his clenched eyelids. 

He could feel himself falling apart bit by bit, and when Keith teased at his hole again with his tongue, lapping at the rim and prodding him with it in a way that complemented the movement of his fingers— 

Shiro was going to lose it. He knew he was, and he was not at all ready for that. “Baby.” He shifted, and the movement was enough to offer his aching cock a little friction with the comforter. It was short lived, as Keith immediately pinned Shiro’s hips.

Keith sat on his knees, licking his lips as he looked down at Shiro’s ass. He retracted his fingers just enough that he could play with the rim of his hole, but only that. “Did you want something, Shiro?”

“I need more.”

Keith pulled his hand away entirely. “More what? Space?”

Shiro scoffed, but he wasn’t so much upset as he was absolutely living for Keith being such a brat in this particular moment. “I want you to fill me up, baby boy. Want your cock in me. Think you can do that for me?”

The sharp exhale was indicative of just how much that got to him. “I wanted you to beg more. But since you asked so nicely.” He tugged Shiro’s hips toward him so he was on his knees.

It was one fluid motion. Keith’s hips pressed against his ass as one of his hands fisted his hair, tilted his head back. Keith didn’t have to say it to know what the intent there was: he wanted to hear him, wanted to his moans reverberating off of the walls, not muffled into the pillows. Shiro was more than happy to give that to him. 

“Fuck, Shiro, you’re so tight.” Keith settled his other hand on Shiro’s hip, steadying himself before he moved. He knew how Shiro liked to be fucked: a rhythm of hard snaps of his hips, pulling nearly all the way, before driving back home again. He knew how to angle himself just the right way to get Shiro all but  _ demanding _ for more.

Their room filled with their moans, pants, and the telltale of sweat slick skin-on-skin.

“Keith.” It was more of a moan than Keith’s name, but it didn’t stop Shiro from saying what he needed. “I want you to come in me.” Shiro was trying to hold off as long as he could, but he could tell Keith’s panting was becoming ragged, and the rhythm he’d built was veering into sporadic. 

As quickly as Keith came following that, Shiro wondered if he was holding out waiting for permission. It was with an unrestrained moan that Keith shot in him, and continued fucking him through the waves of his orgasm. His teeth clamped down on Shiro’s shoulder, and one of his hands hastily reached around to take Shiro’s cock in hand, helping Shiro through his release as well.

* * *

The bed was a mess, and the comforter felt like it clung to his skin too much, being as hot and sweaty as he was right then. But Shiro didn’t mind at all. As soon as Keith was laying beside him, he sought him out, pulling him snugly into his arms. 

Keith brushed his nose against Shiro’s, then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You good?” 

Shiro hummed, smiling against his lips. “More than good. But I hope that isn’t all you’ve got for me.”

“Not by a long shot.” Keith’s eyes shone, cheeks flushed. He was stunning. “I fully intend to work up your appetite before I’m done with you.” It sounded like a perfect plan, and Shiro conveyed his approval by pulling Keith in for another, deeper kiss.


End file.
